Bantering with Octagons

Define Blah
Blah blah
aha
!!!
Now backwards:
AHA

See blah
See blah run
Fetch blah, fetch!

The truth is that diapers are like caffeine.
 
IO blah!
IO Blah!
IO BLAH!!

and thrice we cough
and thrice we splutter
and thrice we shall hunt
the infectious fucker.





It's an old "damn it who made me sick" ritual. Like it? ;-)

Quack

the D
 
a bamboo flute
blows it's mournful note
from my laptop

in the distance
a strong wind is shaking leaves
from a hazel-tree
and I can see it
over the net

my heart doesn't understand
that it can feel
but not reach out and touch

I play my flute
into my laptop
to send you my heart
 
This is my five string serenade
No flute blowing for me
I'll see you one, and raise you two
Its the love for you I see
 
her sonorous strains invade my brain
feathery shivers from her sultry refrains
feverish serendipity serenade
intoxicating ambrosial marinade
 
TheDR4KE said:
IO blah!
IO Blah!
IO BLAH!!

and thrice we cough
and thrice we splutter
and thrice we shall hunt
the infectious fucker.

It's an old "damn it who made me sick" ritual. Like it? ;-)

Quack

the D

Impressive
Frater Perdurabo
Magick Without Tears
Nuit
You got it
Very few would
Liber Uncle Al AHA 23 Skidoo
Inn
Out
Do what thou wilt, baby, oh yeah baby
 
You bastard! . . . We've come to Holland to do three gigs, and in ever hotel we've had room 23, and the gig on the 23rd was a complete disaster. And everywhere we turn, there are 23s. What have you done?
 
2+3=5
+
2+2
=
9

Revolution 9
Revolution 9
Revolution 9
Revolution 9
Revolution 9
Revolution 9
 
revolution 9
in addition
the sixes
enjoy themselves
immensely
 
I am toppled with immence enjoyment. My ankles are weak, but the strophic Lissajous is inconsequentially Marxist. Mandable Crush and Groin Scrape and Arm Bar and Bear Claw and 540 twist--what the hell am I doing with my evenings? Binoculars of whimsy. A grand total of 23 revolutions on 9 fnorbs in 239 Hollands. Organ donars are selected by asphyxiation. Some Ideas are just better left unpronounced.

Mandable crush....just rolls off the tongue. Mandable crush...

-I
 
As bold as octagons!
(Yeah, sing a song bro'...)

Well - I don't mind

No mind.

Nevermind, Gilda o zanna danna

I'm gonna wave my freak flag high, high!
 
wave your flag?
You mean plant your pole
or stroke it anyway.

As for high, I don't recall.
It was an octagonal experience
that Sunday.
Flagpole in sight
in hand
and hand.
 
Impetus said:
Some Ideas are just better left unpronounced.


That's an excellently Necronomicon concept.


Gods don't kill people. Minions kill people.


Quack

the D (a perky minion)
 
That reminds me of a bunion I once knew. This one didn't have an Ox though. Nor was it a member of The Who. I think it did have a Tardis though.
 
Tenses are so hard when you were are will be talking about time and relative dimensions in space.

Tensing and clenching and hard.

Now that reminds me of something...

In the darkness, no one can see you squirm.
 
The squirm Ouroboros. Yeah - I need to devour some tail, baby! Relieve some tension 'n stuff.

Fast 'n bulbous!

We need more Demi Gods and Goddesses, methinks.

And slack, more slack.
 
Last edited:
Ohhhhh or a bulbous demigod.
I wonder what that would look like, really.
Probably need bigger slacks for that.
 
I am on such an Ouroboros kick right now. Its Malory and not Fox This is not just a matter of gratuitous 'yea, thou and prithee' - I recall particularly the description of an unlucky person as 'one who would fall upon his back, and break his nose'.

The Worm is a story with a plot that makes the Iliad look like a scrap in a pub car park, and characterisation which leaves Tolkien's Companions on a par with Bill and Ben.

Demons, baby! Witches. Heros. Spitfire. Let's wrestle with Gorice and Goldry!

Enchanted armies! Mantichores! hHippogriffs! All in a day's work.

All that is left is the sting in the tale, the tail of the Worm Ouroboros, the wurm that devoureth its own tail...
 
head to toe, toe to head
the Universe expressed
aerobics as hermetica




Quack

the D

PS Dill, if you haven't yet, read "The Zelator" by Mark Hedsel. I think you'd like it. D
 
Universal propigation delay settles on my unquenched morning glow. Torque within the ordinary Major chords and booty-tastic frequency domain plots. Zoom in closer to mark my innocence with a wide cut of turpintine molecules. Ministers of trance behaviours plunge headlong into mortuaries of unkempt folicular fallout. Three layers of polarized prepubescent macroeconomics teachers, undercut, underpaid, and underwear. My black plastic friends are latex-driven and wild with green attacks. My saccerine tooth decay falls by the wayside. I seem unable to deal with such twisting little delacacies. My classes don't even make sense to me anymore. Chebychev allows a lower order, but you have to deal with ripple in the pass band. Lordy...I must be mad.

-I
 
Guy Fawkes was a poor chemist, wearing black terrorist underwear to disguise his detonators. This year, November 5th is the eve of Ramadan, a lunar coincidence perhaps, if we believe conspiritors can coincide.
 
Smells like Gurdjieff to me.
Makes me wonder just how fast Hermes/Mercury really is?

Methinks I need a new initiation.
 
I've got an edition of The Flash (DC) where he (Wally West) races Hermes. Wally is really bummed when Hermes just stops dead. He points out that things like inertia don't apply to the Gods.


I think they only apply on earth, ja?
 
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